


Deep As The Arkenstone

by AndreaLyn



Category: The Hobbit (2012)
Genre: Durincest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-06
Updated: 2013-05-06
Packaged: 2017-12-10 14:18:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fili did not think that others noticed the way he looked at and touched his brother, but in a tavern of men, he finds he is gravely mistaken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep As The Arkenstone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the AO3 Auction for ThornyHedge! She asked for a ficlet based off this picture by Kaciart: http://25.media.tumblr.com/87e0c3e2d4db92e0dc4d93284b4db7e5/tumblr_mmdrpeeH9y1rqvtgjo1_500.jpg

Deep within Fili, as deep as the Arkenstone had been buried in Erebor, lay something he did not understand and did not wish to share with the world. This feeling, this desperate lust, this madness of the heart drove him to a madness that he couldn’t describe and knew that it possessed him and took control of him.

It made his hands linger in Kili’s hair.

It drove him to frame his brother’s hips supportively and clasp on tightly.

It was the demon in his mind that coaxed his fingers to trail down Kili’s back while they sat in the public tavern where the eyes of all could see. They followed their own lazy trail as though they answered to no one, but it was a movement that caught attention and were it not for Fili’s blind adoration of Kili, he would notice that the other men and dwarves looked on this action with disgust and disdain.

Kili, though, regarded him with a dazed look and seemed filled with such delight and pleasure that Fili cupped his hand around Kili’s waist and basked in their closeness through the evening. They drank to the very depths of their cups that night, but it was Fili who held his mead worse than his brother.

In the early hours of the night, it was Fili who shifted without centre of balance to keep him steady. “Brother,” Kili laughed brightly. “You are not fit to continue drinking.”

“Yes,” Fili confirmed gravely. “I do think it is a problem.” He near fell off of his stool and would have, were it not for Kili’s steadying hand. Kili helped him up to his feet and patted his bottom lightly, sending him off to bed. 

And still the glares of men were pinned upon them. 

Fili was lucky enough to have Dwalin accompany him to his bed, a wry comment about his inability to hold his liquor upon his tongue. “Just like your Uncle, you are,” he growled, taking him as far as the room he shared with Kili and dropping him like a sack of potatoes upon his cot. “Sleep it off, whelp.”

The night passed quickly, but the mead wore off even quicker. By the time there was a shuffle of footsteps at the door, Fili was alert and awake. “Kee? Is that you?” The room was still dark; no lantern to illuminate Kili’s path. “You’ll trip,” he said, reaching for the lamp.

“Fee, _no_...!”

But it was too late.

Fili bathed the room in amber light and the first thing he saw was the crimson drop of blood that fell from Kili’s fingers to stain the floor. It was not alone. Rather than being singular, it was the warning of more damage. Panicked, Fili rose to his feet – only slightly unsteady from the drink – and hauled Kili closer. “What happened to you?” He reached back to find coarse rope tying Kili’s wrists together and was quick about cutting them loose, drawing Kili’s hand into his to inspect the damage, worry writ upon his face.

“When I left the tavern, I was assaulted by a group of men.” 

“ _Why_?” Fili demanded, his voice stuck in his throat. He hurried to pry Kili’s shirts from off him and prepare a bowl of water and a cloth. The world fell away from him and all that mattered was that Kili was hurt and broken. That deep secret buried inside him forced itself to the surface as he began to run his fingers over Kili’s back, patching up the wounds with a caring linger of his fingers. Fili pressed his temple against Kili’s and exhaled thanks to Aulë that he had survived.

He turned and brushed a slow kiss to Kili’s temple as the water in the bowl began murky and clouded. 

“Brother defiler.”

“What?” Fili pulled away, as though burned.

Kili stared at Fili and in that moment he looked younger than he had in decades. “It is what they called me. It is the tip of the names they slurred at me.” With every word and accusation, Fili drifted from Kili. These wounds were his fault. Guilt plagued him and it was only the depth of love that had Fili staying where he was to tidy the wounds. He wound bandages around Kili’s torso, but he was careful not to touch him more than he ought to.

_Brother defiler_. Could it be that what he felt was so obvious to those outside his purview? Each touch he thought so secret was now illuminated by day. 

“I am sorry, Kili. Your wounds are the fault of my wandering hands,” Fili apologized, standing to his feet and bowing low as he offered out one of his knives to Kili to take and draw blood if that was what he wished. “It is my weakness that caused your pain. I would have it equal between us.”

Kili reached out and wrapped his fingers around Fili’s, but he did not take the knife.

“Brother,” Kili began. “What are you talking of?”

“They saw, Kili,” Fili said, looking up to find Kili staring down at him with wonder and confusion. “They saw the way I touched you and leaned on you.”

“No, Fili,” Kili replied. “What they saw was how I looked after you when you left and that my gaze was fixated low. They saw how I clasped your fingers. They saw how I _wanted_ you.” He shifted forward, flinching when the movement caught his wounds. “They whipped me for it, called me unnatural, and I thought it truth. I thought I was, but you think it was your actions that spurred this on.”

Hope. There was hope on Kili’s face. It seemed so out of place while Kili could barely move without inflicting pain upon himself. 

He reached out and cupped Fili’s cheeks, making a place for his lips against Fili’s, nestling them where he could steal a tentative first kiss that would have the brutes of men upon them again with their whips and their words. Fili gravitated closer for this was what plagued his dreams and waking hours and it was what he wanted, more than anything else.

“They hurt you,” Fili growled. 

“And when I heal, we shall find them, brother. We will make them taste the fury of your swords and my bow,” Kili assured, but it was not battle on Kili’s mind as he stole kisses, upper lip brushing against the braids and beads of Fili’s moustache, a _scrape_ of a sound that was soft, but would linger in Fili’s mind forever.

“Kee...”

Kili let out a soft sound of need. “When I am healed, brother,” he whispered, voice filled with promise. “Hunting down my attackers is not the only thing we will do.”

And so whatever deep thing lingered in Fili’s heart was shared and he knew that while he might never expect to be normal, he would also never be alone.


End file.
